A man already dead he stands alone,
One full paced step away from friend and foe;
That stride already made to the unknown,
His focus where his spirit must but go.
Our careless words just widen that divide,
Lying weasels driving truth away.
Laughter falters, wishes now denied
Slip slyly from the lips of those who pray.

Yet was he ever truly one of us,
This spectre that still stays within our midst.
And is it fair that we should see him thus,
This man who wanly waits that final tryst.

He is the fear that haunts us all my friend
That dread dark fear that is our lonely end.